


oceans

by lynnpaper (27beansprouts)



Series: obikin ficlets [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, anakin skywalker is a power bottom, how do you guys write this it's literally straight porn, if heaven is real i'm not going to get there, it's very late and i must sleep, just as lucifer fell from grace, obikin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29152854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27beansprouts/pseuds/lynnpaper
Summary: Anakin pouts, and Obi-Wan smiles in mock sympathy.“Because it’s hilarious to tease you when you’re turned on.”“That’s so mean.”“Exactly,” Obi-Wan says, dropping a final, innocent peck on Anakin’s forehead, then returns to the couch, resuming his work from before he was rudely interrupted.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: obikin ficlets [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129010
Comments: 8
Kudos: 107





	oceans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the thirsty commenters in my inbox](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+thirsty+commenters+in+my+inbox).



> i really spent two entire days writing this 2.7k smutty monstrosity instead of doing calculus questions then wondered why taking that math exam felt like getting slammed into a garbage bin by the fist of god

“Kiss?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine,” Obi-Wan says mildly, and drops an innocent peck on Anakin’s cheek.

“Another one?”

“No.”

Obi-Wan’s arm is wrapped around Anakin’s waist, Anakin’s head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan’s eyes are trained on a datapad, open to a page displaying some report about spice and trade routes, which is on Anakin’s mental list of top ten most boring topics — right up there with lessons in diplomacy and meditation.

Despite having his eyes trained on the screen, his hand is tucked into the folds of Anakin’s robes, absentmindedly brushing up and down his bare skin, which is very slowly driving Anakin crazy.

Anakin tolerates it for about fifteen seconds before he cracks. “Stop teasing,” he complains, jabbing Obi-Wan in the ribs with an elbow.

“If you weren’t so impatient you wouldn’t be so worked up,” Obi-Wan says, not even looking up from his datapad. “If you really want, I can stop touching you and move to the kitchen counter.”

“ _Obi-Wan,_ ” Anakin whines, and he sounds so desperate and needy Obi-Wan is tempted to take him right there, but it’s been a long day and it really wouldn’t hurt to let Anakin climb all over him, trying to get him naked, while he does nothing but watch.

So Obi-Wan ignores him and stands from the couch to stretch his legs, walking across the room — _away from Anakin_ , how dare he — to gaze indifferently out the window.

“Don’t be so c _ruel_ ,” Anakin gripes from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, taking up more than half the space.

“Anakin, we both know you’re just trying to get into my pants,” Obi-Wan says, sighing. It’s not that he doesn’t want Anakin to get into his pants — as a matter of fact, he would like that very much. But he knows they’re going to end up naked and sweaty whichever way this goes, and he has the option to either draw this out and exploit Anakin’s suffering for his own amusement, or strip right here and now. He would much prefer the former, thank you very much.

Obi-Wan hears the telltale sound of Anakin padding across the room, and Anakin curls his fingers into the front of Obi-Wan’s tunic, kissing hungrily down the nape of his neck.

“Anakin, can you not wait for five minutes?” Obi-Wan asks. Anakin’s mouth is warm against Obi-Wan’s neck, and it’s really distracting him. The thoughts in Obi-Wan’s head are melting into each other, forming puddles of meaningless gibberish as Anakin kisses along his jaw.

“You know you like it,” Anakin responds breathily, lips now moving against the sensitive spot under his ear.

Oh, the _audacity_.

“And what will you do if I don’t come to bed?” Obi-Wan asks, even though he’s quite sure that would be the most sadistic punishment possible, and Anakin would never forgive him — even though he’s a brat and absolutely deserves it.

“Why, because you don’t want to have sex with me?” Anakin asks innocently, batting his eyelashes and wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Which is completely fine and I won’t push it if you’re not in the mood and I’m one hundred percent okay with that —“

Obi-Wan silences him up with a kiss and for a wonderful second Anakin thinks _yesyesYESYESYES_ — but he pulls away just as Anakin attempts to nudge his lips open. Anakin pouts, and Obi-Wan smiles in mock sympathy.

“Because it’s hilarious to tease you when you’re turned on.”

“That’s _so mean_.”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan says, dropping a final, innocent peck on Anakin’s forehead, then returns to the couch, resuming his work from before he was rudely interrupted.

Anakin is having none of it. A different approach, he decides, is in question. No different from how Obi-Wan chastises him for “thinking with his lightsaber” — _why negotiate when you can blow stuff up?_ he asks _—_ when missions can be accomplished easily through diplomatic means.

Not that nuzzling up to Obi-Wan and shamelessly rubbing him through his pants is _diplomatic_ in any sense, but it’s roughly along the same lines.

Anakin isn’t sure whether Obi-Wan approves or disapproves, because he lets out a shuddering exhale, hands clenching in his robes as his lips part in silent ecstasy, yet simultaneously manages to yell the word _imbecile_ very clearly down the bond.

“That’s foul play,” Obi-Wan grits out, struggling with the effort of keeping his voice level.

“I don’t remember making any rules,” Anakin replies. With deft fingers, he unties the drawstring of Obi-Wan’s pants, slipping his hand beneath the waistband, across his bare skin, and strokes him again. Obi-Wan lets his head drop against the back of the couch, and Anakin lifts a knee over Obi-Wan’s thigh to place it between his legs, straddling his thigh.

“Is this your idea of _fun_ , Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks. He _means_ to sound cocky, but it’s difficult to maintain more than a shred of dignity when Anakin quite literally holds him in the palm of his hand.

Anakin laughs breathlessly, knowing he’s won. In a single fluid motion, he pulls down the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants, splays his hands across Obi-Wan’s abdomen, and puts his mouth exactly where Obi-Wan knows he will not be able to resist.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply, a hand instantly in Anakin’s hair, and Anakin lewdly wonders what it would feel like if Obi-Wan were to push him down, force him to take it, until he’s a choking, gagging mess.

“Don’t even think about it,” Obi-Wan pants, his other hand joining the first, twisting in the soft strands.

Obi-Wan is not usually very vocal, which makes it all the more gratifying when Anakin decides to take him as far into his mouth as he can, and Obi-Wan chokes out a sound which he can’t even describe.

“ _Stop_ , Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, voice raw and low and dangerously quiet. Anakin doesn’t. Just gazes up at him through those beautiful lashes. Obi-Wan tightens his fingers around a fistful of Anakin’s unruly hair, pulling him up harshly. Anakin’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated so far that his irises look black, and Obi-Wan fights not to entertain the thought of pinning him against the nearest wall and fucking him until he’s wailing.

“If you keep this up, neither of us are going to last very long,” Obi-Wan warns, lifting his hand to wipe away the wetness at the edge of Anakin’s swollen lips, tracing the line of his jaw. Without any warning, he grips Anakin’s chin hard, fingers curling forward to press against the his neck.

Like a lunatic, Anakin grins, rasping out a laugh despite Obi-Wan’s fingers threatening to tighten around his throat.

“Not _us_ , master,” he says huskily, closing his eyes as he turns his head slightly, just enough so his breath brushes Obi-Wan’s ear. “ _You_.”

Obi-Wan inhales slowly, self control threatening to shatter at that very moment.

“I’d tell you to take your clothes off, but if I do, you’ll be smug about it for the next week,” Obi-Wan says.

“How about if I take them off without you telling me to?”

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows. “Smart.”

“I know, right?” Anakin says, then starts to undo his tunic, standing up and walking backwards into his bedroom, never taking his eyes off Obi-Wan, not even when he slowly pushes the material off his shoulders, making a point to brush a hand down his bare chest suggestively.

Obi-Wan follows, heated gaze boring into Anakin’s chest. Anakin grins, throwing his arms out to the side like he’s inviting Obi-Wan for a hug and not an hour’s worth of sex. “All yours,” he says, casually dropping his pants.

Obi-Wan closes his mouth, not even realising it was open, and swallows hard.

“Get on the bed.” His voice is an octave lower, laced with the barest hint of a growl, and Anakin has never been so turned on. He obeys, turning so his back is facing Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan follows right after him, pushing his knees apart from where he kneels.

Then Obi-Wan is opening him up, his finger deliciously slick, and Anakin thinks he might lose his mind. Vaguely, he realises Obi-Wan has added another finger, curling inside him — but doesn’t really care because that’s just too much to think about and he’s too busy trying not to moan loud enough for the whole temple to hear.

He feels the hard length of Obi-Wan pressing against his entrance and fights the urge to rut backwards. Obi-Wan sinks into him at a torturously slow pace — Anakin is so very tempted to push his hips back and hope Obi-Wan pounds him into the mattress — until he is seated to the hilt, and Anakin is trembling at the sheer sensation of fullness, the mix of pain and pleasure drawing soft moans from his lips. Anakin pushes himself up, knees digging into the mattress, another needy whine sounding in the back of his throat as the different angle hits him in all the right places.

Anakin reaches up to tangle his fingers in Obi-Wan’s hair, maybe push his mouth down to his neck, hope Obi-Wan leaves a trail of lovely purple bruises down the side, but Obi-Wan grabs his wrists and shoves him back onto the mattress, pinning his arms down next to his head, and fucks into him — hard.

Anakin cries out sharply, fingers scrabbling at the sheets, desperate for something to hold on to as Obi-Wan sets a languid, unhurried pace, strokes landing slow and deep, with no concern or pity whatsoever for Anakin’s pleas of harder,

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin pants, and a hoarse laugh escapes Obi-Wan’s mouth as he wraps his arms around Anakin’s waist, pausing his lazy strokes to kiss Anakin’s temple.

“ _No_ ,” Anakin whines, dismayed, nails scraping at the mattress. “Obi-Wan — _Obi-Wan_ —“

Obi-Wan kisses his shoulder and Anakin drops to his elbows, a ragged groan tearing from his throat, unable to form even the most basic or remotely coherent thoughts as Obi-Wan refuses to _hurry the fuck up_ , _harder, faster_ , choosing instead to resume those torturous, languid strokes.

“Patience, Anakin,” he breathes, as he forces himself to take slow, measured breaths. “Let’s not forget who exactly is in control here.”

“This wasn’t your idea,” Anakin mumbles into his arms, then lets out a garbled cry as Obi-Wan thrusts into him again without warning, fingers digging into his hips.

“You can scream into a pillow, if that helps,” Obi-Wan offers, and Anakin somehow manages to string together enough cohesive thought for a hoarse “ _fuck you_ ” — to which Obi-Wan stops moving altogether and bends down to press a kiss to the nape of Anakin’s neck — to which Anakin, of course, immediately starts writhing under Obi-Wan, desperately pushing his hips back and failing as Obi-Wan grips his waist, rendering him immobile.

“What happened to “please?”’ Obi-Wan asks, breath hot against the shell of Anakin’s ear.

Anakin continues to writhe. Obi-Wan fucks into him once, a reminder of what he’s missing out on if he doesn’t behave.

“ _Okay, please_ , I’m sorry, I take that back, _please_ , can you hurry up — _please_ —“

Anakin tries to move his hips again. It’s a violent affair, and he’s almost thrashing against the sheets. Obi-Wan only grips his waist tighter.

“Hurry up and what? You have words, Anakin. Use them.”

“ _Ihateyouyou’resomean can you please hurry up and fuck me_ —“

Obi-Wan smiles, utterly _delighted_ at having coaxed _that_ one out of Anakin.

“You’re going to have to ask nicely,” he says, and Anakin almost screams in frustration. Anakin knows Obi-Wan will keep this up for as long as it takes for him to break, a slow, torturous pace, until Anakin is begging hysterically and delirious with need, and even then he will not be swayed.

“ _Please_ ,” he whimpers, so quietly Obi-Wan almost misses it, and he sounds so desperate, needy, blond curls a mess, back muscles tense and arms shaking from holding himself up, that Obi-Wan decides that’s enough torment for today.

“Quiet now,” Obi-Wan says, gravelly breaths warming Anakin’s neck, and Anakin tries to shift away, moving himself into a position where the fullness of Obi-Wan inside him doesn’t almost make his eyes roll back into his head as he moans like a man deranged.

Another _please_ falls from Anakin’s lips, and at this point he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, only that he’s going to go mad if Obi-Wan keeps at this agonisingly slow pace any longer. Obi-Wan strokes a hand down Anakin spine, gentle and consoling, with a “ _shhh_ ” whispered in Anakin’s ear, a spark of mirth flashing down the bond.

Obi-Wan suddenly thrusts hard and deep and Anakin practically sobs with relief, ignoring the way the pressure is almost excruciating and his vision flashes white for a second. Obi-Wan presses his hand against Anakin’s throat, his chest flush against the trembling muscles of Anakin’s shoulders.

“ _So good_ ,” Obi-Wan pants, as he begins to move at an unforgiving pace, Anakin now completely pliant beneath him as loud gasps and whines slip from his mouth. He’s out of his mind with pleasure, and it’s not long before he feels the familiar clench in his gut, burying his head in his arms, moans muffled by the fabric of the bedsheets.

“Gonna come,” he gasps, and Obi-Wan’s doesn’t speed up, doesn’t stop, doesn’t even seem to care that Anakin is helpless to do anything other than stare giddily at the pillow in front of him, drunk on the pleasure coursing through his veins.

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Obi-Wan somehow manages to say, and Anakin falls off the edge, fevered moans like music to Obi-Wan’s ears. His own release follows soon after, and as he holds Anakin to his chest, savouring the waves of bliss which are cresting over him, Anakin laughs again, parched and raspy but resonating so much love and joy, and they stay there for a few moments longer than they need, basking in the afterglow.

“I hate you so much,” Anakin breathes, and Obi-Wan nips his jaw roughly but playfully, arms tightening around Anakin’s chest.

“You're terrible,” Obi-Wan says, flopping onto his back, Anakin falling on his chest with a soft _oof_. He rolls off, reaching for a pillow, and manages to lift his head onto it.

“You’re worse,” Anakin retorts, kicking him in the knee, which escalates into a half-hearted leg-wrestle and ends with Obi-Wan rolling away until he’s out of reach.

“You look a mess,” Obi-Wan says. _A gorgeous mess_ , he thinks, seeing Anakin lying on his back on the rumpled sheets, still breathing heavily.

Anakin turns his head just enough to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Tends to happen when your brain gets fucked out,” he shoots back. Obi-Wan chokes, covering it up with a couple of coughs. “Don’t look at me like that,” Anakin adds. “This,“ he says, gesturing to himself, “is the consequence of your actions.”

Obi-Wan gazes into Anakin’s eyes, exquisite even when they’re not clouded over in pleasure. “You started this because you couldn’t keep it in your pants.”

“If I recall correctly, your pants came off before mine did.”

“Can you imagine Mace’s face if he heard us talking right now?”

“ _Please_ don’t make me think about Mace when I’m naked.”

Obi-Wan laughs, clear and bright, and Anakin shuffles across the mattress so he can plant a kiss on Obi-Wan’s lips.

“I love you,” Anakin says softly, the words reflected in his gaze, brimming with adoration.

Obi-Wan reaches out to place his hand Anakin’s cheek, and Anakin leans into his touch, turning his head to kiss his palm.

“I love you too,” Obi-Wan echoes. He pauses, humour twinkling in his eyes. “Brat.”

“And here I was, thinking you would accept my love with grace.”

Obi-Wan pulls Anakin to his chest, kissing his forehead. Anakin dips his head and licks a stripe up Obi-Wan’s neck.

“ _Anakin_!”

Anakin laughs brazenly, sucking a lovebite into Obi-Wan’s jaw, then moving his mouth to Obi-Wan’s, enthusiastically biting down on his lower lip.

“No thank you,” Obi-Wan says, turning his head away.

“But I’m not tired,” Anakin complains.

“That’s because you didn’t do any work. You just lay there, _moaning_.”

“I begged!”

“And I enjoyed that very much. Now, you can either join me for a shower — _no_ , Anakin, I am _not_ having sex with you again — “

Anakin scowls.

“— or you can try to explain to Ahsoka when she comes over why you look like someone’s run you over with a speeder.”

Anakin grumbles something about _your fault_ and _I’m not this mean when I fuck you_.

“Suit yourself,” Obi-Wan says, and saunters into the fresher.

Anakin rolls over onto his back, grinning stupidly, his heart threatening to burst from the ocean of love it holds for just this one man.

**Author's Note:**

> good day to all the ladies, gents and those who have yet to make up their mind. it’s so hot in here my enzymes are denaturing. i’m on my fifth mug of oatmeal with walnut milk and maple syrup. when will she stop
> 
> thank you for all the lovely feedback i got on my last fic!! you lot are so horny it makes me want to scream 
> 
> (find me on tumblr as [lynnpaper](https://lynnpaper.tumblr.com/)!)


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